


Epilogue: Marrying Up

by orphan_account



Series: How to Fall In Love With A Human [20]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015), The Devil Wears Prada (2006), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 03:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6035383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the end, my trash kittens.  I thank you for riding along with me.  I hope you enjoyed it, and feel warm and satisfied, and will continue to to follow my work and visit me on the tumblr (stealthvag) and all that jazz.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue: Marrying Up

Kara loved Europe, and wasn’t in a hurry to leave.  But Diana had her own business to get back to, and Kara felt she needed to go back to National City and have a grownup chat with it about who and what she was.  It was, in the end, much like other stunning news – everyone sat in shocked silence for a while, then went about their business much as they had done before.  She came back to CatCo National City, not as a traffic manager, but as a fledgling field reporter, first training with local field crews, and gradually being sent on assignments that took her further away.  Eventually Phillippe was able to borrow her from time to time, as was the CatTV bureau in Rome, and she did a lot of keeping her head down, watching and learning, and helping where she could.  There was no shaking the notoriety that came with her rather dramatic entry onto the scene in Piazza Navona, coupled with the knowledge that she was, in fact, Supergirl (a.k.a. L’Americaine), but her humility and strength and desire to learn put the teams at ease, and at the very least, there was never a concern about her being in physical peril.

And so, slowly, on top of her name as a hero, she built a name as a reporter who could go into dangerous places and show the stories that no-one could.  She dismissed comparisons to Shazia Dhoury, humbly pointing out that Shazia was far braver than she for going into war zones without the benefit of bulletproof skin.

She made time to go back to Themiscyra as often as she could, to replenish herself and share more stories of Krypton with her Amazon sisters, who promised her that they would help keep the memories of her world alive.  She sometimes brought Cat, who at first felt wildly out of place, but was soon won over by the freedom of being someplace so beautiful, with no clocks, and no papparazzi.  Cat got used to waking up in Kara’s bed with the breezes coming through the open window, being able to lean out and pluck ripe orange sunfruit from the tree that overhung the balcony, and eat it, lounging barefoot with the sun on her skin.  And Kara loved the serene look on her face in the mornings, and the way a long stola hung on her slender body, and the way her hair looked when it was still in thick, damp, messy locks, drying after a swim under the waterfall behind the embassy.  

But Kara’s biggest victory was when she decided to take her role as ambassador more seriously, and convinced her aunt to come to Themiscyra with her, to see the look on her face as she brought her to the embassy and told her she stood on Kryptonian soil.  While Astra had been among Kryptonians since she’d arrived, those Kryptonians had been a bunch of criminals that she’d whipped into warriors through the sheer force of her will.  The Amazons were different; they were happy warriors.  When Astra fought Clyemne in the courtyard and arm wrestled Artemis on the beach at night, she touched a kind of joy that had long eluded her.  And when she told her own story by the fire, Kara realized that there was much about her aunt that she had not known; not only the distress of knowing she could do nothing to stop the destruction of her world, but the brutal life of incarceration, the loyal but loveless marriage she was trapped in with Non, whom she clung to because she felt she had no other choice.  Her desire to save this world where she’d taken up residence, but only knowing one way to do it.  The love she had for her niece, whom she feared that she’d lost forever, even though she still lived.  Kara saw that same look in her aunt’s eyes when they were leaving that she’d had after her own first visit; that she had found a kind of home, that she had been shown something about herself that she had not seen, or had been numb to.

It could only lead to good.

Kara would use her growing voice as a reporter to reach out, not only to her aunt’s faction, but to other Kryptonians in hiding, to tell them that there was a place on this earth for them, that they no longer needed to hide, and that if they were adopting this world as their own, they had a special responsibility to it.  Soon enough, Kryptonians began popping up in cities and towns all over the world.  Kara Zor-El had raised a banner, and they would follow it.  Kara covered a story on the fields in Chechnya still littered with active mines, and soon enough, Kryptonians would show up to clear them.  Kara covered stories about communities in Iraq whose supply lines were being choked by local warlords, and soon after, Kryptonians arrived to bring food and water to these starving villages.

Cat and Kara were married twice.  The first, and in Kara and Cat’s mind the real one, was a traditional ceremony on Themiscyra, officiated by Diana and attended by the women of the island, as well as Astra, Alex and a few of the Amazons who walked among the general population of the Earth most of the time.  Cat was surprised, although she shouldn’t have been, that among their wedding guests on Themiscyra were Venus and Serena Williams, Beyoncé, and Lucy Lawless.  “Even on a mythical Greek island, Cat Grant manages to have celebrities at her wedding,” Kara joked, and Cat rolled her eyes, but her mouth was smiling. 

Alex was particularly impressed with Beyoncé’s relaxed skill with a broadsword. Naturally, Cat saw Alex’s jaw hit the ground when the singer displayed such strength and technique, and remarked dryly, “Oh for God’s sake Alex, stop gaping.  Look at her thighs, she could crack your skull open with them, of course she’s an Amazon!”

They were married on the beach and celebrated there, roasting wild boar on spits and drinking wine and singing and dancing, and then telling stories by the fire till the stars burned out.  

When they rose from their bed in the early afternoon, and Cat pulled her habitual sunfruit from the tree on the balcony, Kara couldn’t help glancing down at the beach and noticing Astra, walking down on the foamy shoreline, with her hand in Alex’s.  

The second wedding, legally recognized under U.S. law, was a proper gala event, the sort one would expect from Cat Grant and her superhero/reporter wife.  Cat wore Vera Wang and Kara wore a custom-made gown in shimmering blue, modeled after Kryptonian wedding gowns. It was designed by Donatella Versace with the assistance of Astra, who remembered clear as day what her sister Alura’s gown had looked like, and it had a small, subtle silver pin at the shoulder, emblazoned with the crest of the House of El.  They held an enormous reception at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, the ceiling illuminated with constellations.  Carter gave both Cat and Kara away, walking down the aisle with one of them on each arm, looking giddy and proud.  The evening whipped by in a blur, Kara grinning so hard and incessantly that she was sure that her face was going to get stuck that way.  She and Cat clung to each other’s arms to avoid being pulled away from each other into the crowd of hundreds.  

Finally, after dinner, the jazz combo was swinging something midtempo, and after dancing together just as they’d done at Tipping Velvet back when, Cat whispered to her, “I need to go thank someone, darling.  Don’t let anyone steal my seat.”

Kara floated back to her chair and nearly bumped into an attractive brunette close to her own age.  She looked vaguely familiar but Kara couldn’t place her.  “Hey, congratulations,” the woman said, placing a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Kara answered, offering her hand.  “You’re with Cat’s side, right?”

She nodded and shook Kara’s hand. “Andy Sachs-Priestly,” she said, loudly enough to be heard above the music.  “Your wife used to be my wife’s protege,” she added with a wry little smile, gesturing to a little corner where Cat was engaged in a very intent conversation with a strikingly tall, glamorous-looking woman.  She recognized Cat’s body language as the kind she used when she was trying very hard not to seem too emotive but was bubbling over with feeling.  

“You wrote that exposé on CIA black sites in Eastern Europe,” Kara realized, recognizing the name suddenly.

Andy nodded.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get a Pulitzer for that.”

Andy shrugged.  “Lois Lane did humanitarian nuns that year.  Everyone loves adorable, plucky, life-saving nuns.  I think it’s because they look like penguins.”

“I would have liked to be on that assignment with you in Poland,” Kara remarked wistfully.

“And I wouldn’t have minded having someone with me who had your special journalistic talents,” Andy replied, smirking.  “You don’t get to work at a CIA black site because you like pina coladas and cuddling.”

Kara kept staring at Cat, talking with Andy’s wife.  “That’s Miranda Priestly,” she realized, slowly putting it together.  She laughed at herself.  “I’m sorry, I’m a little slow.  I’ve heard both your names before.  It never occurred to me that you two were together.”

Andy chuckled.  “I’d rather that reaction than ‘oh, you’re Miranda’s wife, and what is it exactly that you do, dear’?” she answered, clearly mimicking the kind of condescension she’d no doubt experienced from some of Miranda’s less thoughtful acquaintances.

Kara smiled.  “Yeah, well, I guess that’s the price you pay for being with women like that, right?”

Andy nodded.  “Wouldn’t trade it for anything, though.”  She cocked her head at Kara.  “Must be easier for you, though, right?  With the whole superhero thing?  Doesn’t it put you on more equal footing?”

Kara laughed so hard she nearly popped out of her dress.  “No, not at all.  In fact I started out as her assistant.”

Andy started laughing with her.  “Yeah, me too.”

They sat down together with glasses of wine and were immediately drawn into talking about their powerful wives, their growth experiences, and soon Andy was asking lots of questions about Kara’s high-danger reporting and her public calls for Kryptonians to take on humanitarian tasks to help transform their adopted home.  Half an hour later, Miranda and Cat came breezing over with martinis in hand, looking pleased to find their wives already deep in conversation.  

“I see you two found each other,” Cat remarked.  “Let me tell you why that’s absolutely perfect.”  

Kara smiled up at them.  “Okay, tell us.”

“We want to do a photoshoot with you and your Wonder Woman friend,” Miranda began.  “It’ll run in the Trib’s Sunday magazine, but it’ll be a collaborative effort with Runway’s stylists and photographers.  I trust Nigel to handle that.”

Kara smiled.  Cat was still territorial about her Supergirl, but she could see that Miranda respected it.  “Alright, if she’s interested.  I mean, honestly Cat, you’ve met Diana, she’s not a real glamor type, I don’t know if she’ll–”

Cat shushed her.  “Wait, we’re not done.  And Andrea, this is where you come in.”

Andy raised an eyebrow.  

Cat looked joyfully, adorably murderous as she announced, “You’re going to write the piece to go with the shoot.  We want it to be about Kara’s role as ambassador and her efforts to integrate Kryptonians into Earth’s population, and some of the large humanitarian efforts she’s been responsible for.”

Both Kara and Andy went silent as they considered the idea.  

“It would do a lot to advance your platform,” Miranda said to Kara, “another way of reaching your hidden Kryptonians, another way of legitimizing and publicizing their good work.”  

Kara nodded quietly.  Andy was staring back at her.  

“Humanitarian stuff plays well with the liberals on the prize committees, Andrea,” Cat pointed out, tagging in for Miranda. 

The four of them looked at each other, and Cat’s gleefully predatory grin slowly crept across all their faces.  It was brilliant.  It would be beautiful.  It would have gravitas.  It would sell.  

Kara looked up as Lois and Kal came drifting over.  Kal leaned down and kissed Kara on the cheek.  “Congratulations, Kara,” he said affectionately.

Miranda and Cat gave Lois twin looks of bored disdain.  “Lois,” they said in unison.

“Cat, Miranda,” Lois replied evenly.  It was clear she wasn’t liking her odds at the moment.

“I believe,” Cat began, breaking out that same sweet, murderous smile, “Lois, that you haven’t yet met my wife,  _ Ambassador _ Kara Zor-El Danvers?”

Lois fumed but shook her hand.  "Hard to say which of you is marrying up," she remarked, but nobody in the mood to look for the insult in it, which further enraged Lois.  


As Kal and Lois walked away, Kara could hear Lois hissing at him, "Why aren't _you_ the ambassador of something?"

  
  


****

 

As expected, Diana balked at first, but as Kara explained the scope of it, she realized that it was worth an afternoon.  The styling team opted for a Greek theme, and the shot of them side by side, Diana armed and armored, and Kara in a floor-length chiton with her hand outstretched, as if reaching for all those lost souls in the world, was one of the most striking covers the Tribune’s Sunday edition had ever had.  And the fact that it had been a collaboration with Miranda Priestly and the staff of Runway Magazine set the publishing world abuzz.

Nothing would be announced for some time, but Miranda and Cat were quietly arranging a merger of Elias-Clark with CatCo’s print division.  Miranda wasn’t ready to scale back yet, but she would be in about ten years, and she wanted to hand things off to someone she trusted.  Cat Grant was the only logical choice.

Kara was growing, and Cat was, too.  Kara was able to bring Cat stories from places nobody could go, and then inspire the heroes living among humanity to change those places.  Cat was able to leverage her political and business connections to help Kara legitimize and naturalize Kryptonians who wished to declare themselves.  Kara became comfortable with her own power, and Cat became comfortable with sometimes deferring to her, sometimes accepting that there were things bigger than herself and beyond her control.  

Carter grew up in a house full of warmth, and learned how to overcome his fears, how to let people in, and how to love.  He didn’t get his first girlfriend until senior year of high school, but he tried to pick someone with whom he was able to share the same kind of balance, the same kind of affection, the same kind of understanding, that he saw between Kara and his mother.  

Cat and Kara were changing the world, together.  With the help of those heroes who were heeding Kara’s calls to action, the Earth was healing itself, a little at a time, becoming a little more like the best parts of the Krypton that lived in Kara’s memory.  

And humanity was her family, and Earth was her home, and she knew that falling in love with a human was the best thing she’d ever done.


End file.
